


(doesn't mean) it's going to burn forever

by drippingcandie



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, M/M, Past Character Death, Sad, eh alexander visits john laurens grave, it's not all that sad just kinda
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-20
Updated: 2016-09-20
Packaged: 2018-08-16 10:14:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8098228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drippingcandie/pseuds/drippingcandie
Summary: alexander visits john laurens' grave and brings the following: a turkey swiss sandwich with a single pickle, a bottle of sweet tea, and a lot of memories of what was there before.





	

“I can’t believe I never visited, John.”

 

Alexander sits with his legs folded on a checked blanket that he had in his possession. The basket sat just a few feet away.

 

He had visited. Only once after the funeral when everyone had gone at once. He remembers Lafayette trying to pick a fight with Hercules. The next thing Alex knew, Lafayette had packed up his bag and moved back to France. They corresponded every once in a

while, but it’s not like Alex had the money to go visit him.

 

He stares down at the puny sandwich that is sitting on the plate across from him. Turkey and swiss with a single pickle. John had always been pretty particular about that singular pickle. No one is going to eat that sandwich. No one is going to drink the bottle of sweet tea. Alex is wondering why he brought it. 

 

“Your family seems to have more than one nice plot of land.” He jokes as he takes a bite of his own sandwich, bologna with no cheese. Mustard.

 

There’s an empty plot sitting next to John’s for when Martha Manning passes away, or it was for her anyway. John had said they’d gotten a divorce but he doesn’t know if he should believe that. He had said a lot of things that were untrue to rid himself of his own guilt when he was alive.

 

Alive. He thinks back to a time when John Laurens was alive and well and sitting right in front of him.

 

His heartstrings gave a slight tug and Alex set down his sandwich. Maybe he shouldn’t eat. It’d be rude to eat all by himself.

 

_ We must be free not because we claim freedom, but because we practice it. _

 

Alex eyes scan the epitaph that is chiseled so neatly into the marble. Henry Laurens invested in quite a nice headstone. The old man must have been so upset that he couldn’t pick the small quote that would be there forever.

 

Forever.

 

John would be six feet under forever. He looks at the quote again. William Faulkner. A southern boy with a love for southern gothic. John was quite the lover of William Faulkner. John had made him read  _ As I Lay Dying _ , even made him read the essay which the quote came from. 

 

What great words to live by, is what he had said after finishing  _ On Fear: The South in Labor.  _ He remembers that night swathed in blankets and drinking hot tea. John’s was iced.

 

_ John Laurens. October 28th,1990, to August 27th, 2015. _

He traces the rest of the engraving lightly. Alexander cannot believe he is speechless. He’s written letters to John, yeah. Ones that he’d never be able to reply to.

 

Alexander thinks that maybe in another life he’ll be given another chance. Maybe he won’t fall in love with a boy who was too scared to- He stops himself. He doesn’t regret loving John. He doesn’t regret one second of it. The only thing he regrets is all the things they never got to do.

 

Alex is glad John ran off to New York to get away from his father. He is glad that he chose to go to Columbia College out of all the ones in the area. Glad he chose to go into political science instead of going into pre-med. Glad that being cut off meant he couldn’t afford to live off campus. Now that Alex thinks about it, some divine being must be up there looking out for him. Lead John right to him.

 

It was all worth it.

 

For some reason he imagined John and him would go out together in some blaze of glory, like they were two soldiers born in different times. In the modern world there was no glory in John’s death. It was just being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

 

John had never been in the wrong place at the wrong time before.

 

Alexander tries not to resent John in death. John was always so reckless, but no matter how careful he would’ve been the outcome would’ve been the same. Alex tries to think happy thoughts.

 

Spilling coffee on the edges of John’s sketchbook. Sharing ice cream in central park. Staying up in bed working long past midnight while John rubbed circles into his back. Breathing in the scent of John’s honey shampoo while John sat in his lap.

 

“You made me a lot softer.” Alexander says in whisper. “Neither of us are very soft. Remember that one time you accidentally broke Charles Lee’s nose?” He lets out a breathy laugh. The occurrence wasn’t really an accident. “It might’ve been one of the best nights of my life.”

 

There probably would’ve been many more contenders for the title if John was still here.

 

He shakes the thought away. Sits in his own thoughts for a few minutes.

 

“Do believe in ghosts, John?” Alexander says. “I do. I wish you wouldn’t forgive so easily so you had someone to stick around and haunt.”

 

Alex shakes that thought from his head again. He must look crazy, sitting there and trying to knock the thoughts out of his brain. There was no paper for it to go on, they just floated out and fell in the dirt. No cataloug of his thoughts. He’d just bury them.

 

Buried him.

 

He remembers the day they buried John Laurens and Alex was crying far too much to help carry the coffin. Alex doesn’t remember crying that much before over someone’s death. Maybe his mama’s.

 

“How do you like spending more time with your mama?” Alexander says as he begins to park away the extra food. “I know she loves you so much,  cariño .” He gets to work folding the blanket up and stacking all of his belongings together. “She always sounded a lot like my own mother, you know? But I guess most moms sound the same. I miss hearing you talk about her.”

 

He misses a lot of things about John Laurens.

 

Brushing off his pants, Alexander stands up and grabs the basket. Rests his free hand on the tombstone and rubs small circles with his finger tips. As if he was tracing patterns on John’s back.

 

“I just want to know that you’ve made my heart a lot softer, John Laurens. I can’t wait to see you again.”

 

_ It’s only a matter of time. _

**Author's Note:**

> send me prompts or shout at me @amourlaurens on tumblr!!


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